


Three Times a Week

by infiniteeight



Series: Originally Posted on Tumblr [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: AU (different professions), M/M, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-23
Updated: 2013-12-23
Packaged: 2018-01-06 20:59:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infiniteeight/pseuds/infiniteeight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Clint is the delivery guy, Phil is constantly ordering pizza.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times a Week

Phil has always liked pizza. This is what he tells himself. It’s true, to a point—for years, he stuck very strictly to a one pizza per week rule, because he knew he’d be eating it damn near every day if he didn’t control himself. But the Pizza Rule went out the window about three months ago. Now, he orders pizza every Monday, Tuesday, and Thursday.

It’s pathetic, and Phil knows it’s pathetic, but he’s not pathetic enough to insist the increase in his pizza consumption is innocent. Especially not since he usually gives the Tuesday pizza away to one neighbour or another. (He usually still has leftovers from Monday pizza.)

It’s the delivery guy.

His name is Clint. When you order as much pizza as Phil does, even when it was just once a week, and you tip, you get to know names. Before he worked out Clint’s on duty nights, Phil had also regularly exchanged small talk with Alex (Monday, Wednesday, Friday) and Ru (Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday). Since the pizza place always has two drivers on, Clint definitely knows Alex and Ru, which means he probably knows that at some point Phil stopped ordering pizza on nights that Clint doesn’t work.

Phil would worry that that means that he’s coming across as a creeper, but he’s careful to always be respectful when they chat. At some point after he switched his pizza ordering schedule, he stopped getting Alex as delivery guy on Monday or Ru as delivery guy on Tuesday, and that has to mean that Clint doesn’t mind too much, right? Maybe he even likes the attention.

Sometimes, Phil daydreams about more. Clint is gorgeous, and he has a warm, rough laugh, and his second job is part time security at a homeless shelter, and…well, he’s the kind of person that Phil would like to wake up next to, someday.

It’s just a daydream, but it’s a daydream that makes Phil pick up the phone and order more pizza, even though Monday’s leftovers are still in the fridge. The woman in the call center that takes his order says it’ll be 35 minutes, but Phil’s pizza is always faster than that, so he’s not surprised when his buzzer goes off in 20.

He answers it, “Hello?” as if he doesn’t know exactly who is on the other end.

"Hey, Phil," Clint says, voice echoy and scratchy through the intercom. "Got your pizza. Buzz me in?"

"Of course." Phil hits the button that will open the front door of his building and absolutely does not wait by the front door. But only because it really would be creepy if he answered the very second Clint knocked. He still hurries to answer it, though.

Clint smiles at him when he opens the door, and God, he’s just as gorgeous as always, even in the black uniform polo with the company logo on the breast and the company mandated khakis. Phil daydreams of seeing him in jeans some day. “Hey.”

"Hey," Phil said, smiling back. He holds out his debit card. He could pay cash, but the debit card gives him more time to chat. "How’s it going?"

Clint fits the card into the machine and talks while he’s punching in the numbers. “Not bad. That guy that was giving us trouble at the shelter stopped coming around.”

"Is that good or bad?" Phil asks, because Clint doesn’t seem happy about it despite the fact that he’s spent the last week bitching about the guy.

"It’s good that he isn’t hassling the other folks," Clint says, looking up and handing the machine to Phil. "But there’s no way to know if he’s moved on to another part of town or if something’s happened to him, you know?"

Phil’s heart melts even as he adds a tip and approves the charge to his card. That’s Clint all over, worrying about a guy who’d been making his life miserable for a week. “Any chance you’ll find out?” he asks as he hands the machine back. 

"Nah. Homeless people don’t tend to show up in the news." Clint looks sad, for a moment, but then he shakes his head and tears off the receipt, handing it and the pizza to Phil. "How about you?"

"Not bad. Got another another Stark Industries contract."

Clint smiles and echoes Phil, “Is that good or bad?”

"Good to have the work," Phil says, leaning against the door jam even though he already has the pizza in hand. "But I’m beginning to wonder what’s up; SI can afford a permanent full time security analyst. Why do they keep hiring me to check their set up?"

Clint pauses, and that’s odd. Phil tilts his head. Clint bites his lip and ducks his head, looking at Phil through his eyelashes. “Maybe for the same reason you order pizza three times a week.”

Phil freezes. Oh, shit. Oh _shit_. He wants to melt into the floor. He wants to retreat into his apartment. He could, he’s got the pizza that he definitely doesn’t need. But…Clint is still chewing on his lip. Phil makes himself swallow the lump in his throat. “Why is that?”

Clint shrugs one shoulder. “Because they like you.”

"I’m… I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable," Phil says, looking down at the pizza he’s still holding. 

"It’s okay."

Phil nods, silent.

"But maybe you’d like to talk for more than five minutes at a time, sometime?"

Phil’s head snaps up and he stares at Clint for a moment. He’s let go of his lip, but it’s all red where he was biting it. Phil can’t help the way his eyes linger on it, and when he manages to meet Clint’s gaze, the uncertainty in Clint’s eyes has faded. It gives Phil the boost he needs. “Coffee?” he offers. “Saturday?”

Clint grins, and it takes Phil’s breath away. “Sounds good.” And then he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a slip of paper, holds it out. “My personal number.” His grin takes on a sheepish edge. “I’ve already got yours.”

Phil laughs a little as he takes the paper, rubs his thumb over the number and enjoys knowing that Clint had planned this far enough in advance to have the paper ready. “I better let you get back to work.”

Clint nods and steps back from the door. “Saturday.”

"Saturday," Phil confirms. He watches Clint walk down the hall before he shuts the door, and turns and leans back against it and laughs at himself for a good long time.

~!~


End file.
